


Can anybody find their home?

by CrazyBichoLady



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crying, Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Established Relationship, Gen, Heaven, How Do I Tag, Hurt Sam Winchester, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry Sam Winchester, Lucid Dreaming, Nostalgia, Panic Attacks, Reunions, Sad and Happy, Sad and Sweet, Series Finale, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28829988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyBichoLady/pseuds/CrazyBichoLady
Summary: Today was Dean's tenth death anniversary.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Can anybody find their home?

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, I just had this on my 'notes' just waiting to be finished and edited (ish) so I did, who needs sleep anyway *twitches*. 
> 
> If I could tag properly from my phone I'd tag this 'wincesty Gen' bc they are totally pre established to me here, but could be read as Gen.. As gen as the show allowed it *laughs to eternity *.
> 
> Also, I want to clarify something, there's a scene with some short of panic attack, I never had a panic attack so please have in mind that I did what I could and didn't mean to offend anyone. 
> 
> Nat.

When Sam woke up that morning his toes were freezing. There was a chill in the air that would get throughout the ventilation over his room some windy mornings like this one. 

When they were kids, Dean called him 'frosty toes' and Sam would pouth and bitch about it until his brother 'geesh Sammy'ed him and rubbed the warm back on his feet.   
Today is Dean's tenth death anniversary.

He gets up sluggishly, seems like more slowly every year that passes, shuffles silently over the carpet to the bathroom. He's taken aback with the image of the graying man on the mirror staring with bloodshot bloated eyes. Has he been crying on his sleep?. 

His wife never mentions it to him, but sometimes he wakes up like this and she would give him this look. The 'it's ok' barely-there smile. He has nightmares after a lifetime of being a hunter, but these aren't the ones that make him wake up like this.   
Today is one these mornings. 

Neither she or their son Dean are in the kitchen when he makes it down though, just a cup of black coffee on the counter next to a pile of toasts. And a note with her handwriting. It says ' _down in the lake with De, xo_ ' 

Sam smiles a little and drinks his coffee. He doesn't feel like eating, but he doesn't want to make her feel worried so he eats one and a half dry toast slowly.   
There's only the sounds of distant birds and the _clink clink_ of the wind caller hanging at the arc of the back door. The wind is picking up outside. 

It feels like _before_ , his ears perk out for any disturbance in the easy sounds of his house, senses sharpening, his body tenses at ready. But nothing happens. Nothing out of the ordinary happens.   
It's just him, the cup of coffee on his numb hand, and his numb face, his mute brain.   
His breathing is shortening and he didn't even noticed until now. He's getting out of breath fast, feels like drowning and how did he got to the floor this fast?. Sam finds himself crouching on his knees, his head feels heavy on the shoulders, he can hear his blood pulsing. One clear drop, another one on the floor next to that, and he's crying. He's crying and hugging his legs like he's five again and Dad took Dean away on another stupid hunt with him and he's all alone again, he's lost, alone on another countless shady motel room without Dean. His brother left him. 

Sam cries silently until exhausted and falls asleep. When he wakes up he knows he didn't wake up really because the first thing he sees is his brother's strong back, deep in the hood of the impala, taking care of her like only he knows how. 

Sam could paint this image perfectly with closed eyes, it's engraved on his mind like nothing else.   
He could weep right now but Dean would make fun of him even in the afterlife, the jerk. 

Sam doesn't dare to tear his eyes apart of the sight, doesn't wanna break the spell, but he can recognize with vivid clarity the smell of tons and tons of car junk pilling around them, mixed in with they distant smell of grilled meat. They are in Bobby's backyard. 

"Heya Sammy" Dean says, finally breaking the spellbound that had Sam contemplating him quietly. Dean dust off his hands on his jeans and turns around with the most brightest of smiles Sam ever saw in that handsome face.   
He seems.. brighter. Like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders. He looks at peace. 

"Dean" he manages on a heavy throat, and suddenly he's reaching out to Dean and his brother reacts at the same time, their coordinated dance of a lifetime, pulling him off the floor and they embrace for what it feels like an eternity apart from each other. It feels like coming home. 

"missed you" Sam can't cry, even if the words are heavy on his heart he feels so happy and free of every single weight here, between Dean's arms. 

"I know" His brother says never letting go. "I'm fine, Sam. And I'm always there" 

Sam feels a thread of sudden fear; his brother is gonna dissappear again. _This is a dream_.  
He tightens his grip on Dean, he won't let him go. 

"I won't go anywhere" his brother is talking soflty, holding his face between his hands, making Sam look at him. "They need you. I'll wait for you. Just a ride away" Dean winks and smiles easily, and somehow that makes Sam feel a little better. A little more safe. He believes in his brother, he always did.   
"Cmon, show me some dimples?" he teases and Sam obligues, never been able to deny him. "There it is, my Sammy"   
Sam feels more aware now, like he's getting awake. Dean keeps smiling at him, confident and easy like always. 

Sam wakes up on the couch of his house, his son is sitting next to him looking a bit worried. How long has he been dreaming?. He notices then the dryines of his eyes and mouth. 

Dean junior hands him a glass of water before he can ask for it.   
"how.."   
"I came to get you and you were lying on the floor" his son explains briefly, but Sam knows there's more to it he doesn't mention. He's grateful.   
"I tripped. It's fine, I'm fine" he drinks the water and hopes it ends here, and fortunately his son doesn't dig on it. For now. He's so much like Dean on that matter, lets him rest for a while to come back recharged at him later. It frustrates and delights Sam at the same time, every little thing he finds of his brother in his son. 

"You commin', dad?" Dean asks standing by the backdoor, and for a second Sam doesn't see his son, he sees his brother Dean there, smiling at him, waiting. 

He closes his eyes and pretends to rub off sleep. "Yeah. Go ahead 'key?" 

His son nods and leaves then, Sam just listens to his footsteps on the grass for a while until they fade away. 

***

  



End file.
